My Sacrifice
by LittleMaggie
Summary: Hermione is very ill and Harry will do ANYTHING to make the love of his life get better... even if it involves turning to Dark Arts. One-chapter songfic. H/HR!


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Author: LittleMaggie

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Date: May 31, 2003 – June 1, 2003

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Title: My Sacrifice

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Rating: PG-13, just to be safe.

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Summary: Hermione's very ill, and Harry goes to a drastic measure to let her live on. Would he resort to black magic?

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Author's Note: About time for a songfic out of me. This is to London After Midnight, " Sacrifice". I love this song! Ironically, when I wrote this story I was listening to Adam Ant's "Beat My Guest" on a loop, which is in no relations to the story line. Random facts are fun!

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She was so pale, he feared to touch her because he worried her skin would crumble like the dried rose petals that had rained from the withering roses on her bed stand. Yet, he sat beside her hospital bed, staring at her face remorsefully and thinking to himself, with each intense passing moment, of what he could possibly do to help her.

Harry had defeated Voldemort, it had been a terrifying series of battles. Hermione and he relished in their love for one another, meanwhile fearing every moment ahead of them because either of them could be killed. And then – the last battle, the lucky one – and Hermione was hit with two spells at once. It had jarred something inside of her, she had been unable to be roused from her coma afterwards.

He had sat there, at her hospital bed, for nearly four months now. He only left her bedside to make use of the lavatory. He'd return quickly after, though. Nurses would bring him food and drink and he would pay them thankfully for it.

Today he sat there, again, talking to her.

" Why you, Hermione? Why couldn't it have been me? They say that the spells were actually aimed at me, because I … I was the one leading the _good_ side after all. I can't help but think this every day, that there was a mistake. That you're so ill because of something that was intended for _me," _Harry Potter lowered his hand over hers, holding it sadly. He looked at the blanket he had unrolled on the ground for himself. It was for him to sleep on. He couldn't imagine leaving the hospital room without her.

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And here we go again  
we've taken it to the end  
with every waking moment  
we face this silent torment

He flipped through the newspaper in his lap dejectedly, another day in a series of dark and monotonous days. Harry's fingers trembled on a water-warped page of the newspaper suddenly. The words on it rang out to him –** DARK RESORTS –** **Victims of War Against Voldemort Resort to Healing Powers of Black Magic. **He dove into the article, his eyes widening in both fear and unexpected hope.

The article told of how, surprisingly, people were able to find healing and solace in Black Magic. Though Black Magic was strictly forbidden, it had become more common as people saw it was the only way to get their ancestors back. Most Black Magic revolved around sacrificing someone else in place for the person you care for. Harry skipped past the list of blaring precautions about the evils of Black Magic and read about people who had been saved by it. A mother, grieving so badly she had gone into a state of hysteria, performed a ritual and killed a stranger. In turn, her son, who had been in vegetable state at the Hogsmeade Hospital, was returned to "life", as the mother put it. She faced the gravest of punishments for her deeds, but her son had returned.

Harry felt his stomach flip. He didn't think he'd be capable of killing anyone in sacrifice. Who else could he sacrifice? And what other options did he have, though? Hermione was his whole world.

Suddenly, it dawned on him. The greatest sacrifice – himself.

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I'd sacrifice,  
sacrifice myself to you-  
right here tonight  
because you know that I love you-

Darkness is all I want to see  
I could never put in to words  
what it is you mean to me

Harry left the hospital for the first time in a long time that very evening. He headed for the Malfoy mansion, which had stood, abandoned, for four months now. The Malfoys had fled right after the war, not even waiting to face the aftermath and the trials that would send them all to Azkaban. A vacationing wizard in Brazil spotted Draco Malfoy, which had become the last that Harry had heard about the Malfoys.

Harry Apparated, it was far easier than to travel. Once at the Malfoy mansion, he went through their belongings, knowing that they must have books on the Dark Arts everywhere. It didn't take long to find a spell that explained how to do the Ultimate Sacrifice, one of the more rewarding and less evil Black Magic spells. Harry ripped the page out and Apparated back to the hospital.

There, he set the appropriate stage to perform the ritual.

He lit a candle, took out the page from the book, and looked at Hermione hopefully. Then, he stood, closed the door to the hospital room, and knelt in front of the makeshift stage. Harry's eyes closed and he took in a slow, wavering breath before taking out his wand.

Slowly, Harry began to recite the spell. The spell was long, the whole page, and it had to be repeated ten times. It was so that the user could always turn away and stop before it was too late. Harry was set, though, Hermione was everything to him. She had every right to live on, and not him.

Thunder roared outside the hospital room. Harry could hear the raindrops begin to pelt against the sides of the hospital building. He saw the blinding flashes of lightning, and once more thunder followed. A storm was raging outside. He remembered – a note!

Harry opened the table at Hermione's bedside, brushing some rose petals aside. He tugged out a sheet of paper and then a quill and ink. He wrote hastily – 

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My darling Hermione,

Please forgive me for not being here once you wake up. I love you more than life itself, and I would gladly die to have you go on. You suffered four months in a dark hell inside your own mind because of me. You have no right to go through this your whole life. At least I leave quickly, painlessly, and knowing that you love me and I love you. 

Oh, I love you, I love you, I could write it a hundred times but I still know it changes nothing. I could cry in despair and keep importing expensive medicines, but what good would it do? Something inside of you is locked, is jarred, and I could never fix it without resorting to this. Forgive me, forgive that the last thing I did was perform Black Magic. 

We spent the last year of our lives together fighting the Dark Arts, ironically it is what saves us in the end. I want you to fall in love with someone else, let another man find in you what I knew. You only deserved the best, and I only resulted in the worst for you in the end. I will love you for all eternity, and if there is anything after I die, I know that I will watch you from there.

All the love I could ever offer you I'm letting go so it won't die with me, but won't hold you back.

Harry Potter

  
  
**The candle is burning low  
at the window to my soul  
the reaper is at my door now  
he's come to take me home**

Harry finished reciting the spell ten times. At first, he felt that it had failed, for nothing had happened. He just stood there, on wavering feet, his eyes wide, his stomach aching in worry and misery. Slowly, nervously, Harry turned and looked at Hermione. She was lying, still, in her bed. Then, her eyes fluttered open.

Harry felt puzzled. He was standing directly in front of her, whole and well!

" Hermione!" He exclaimed, tears streaming down his face suddenly. Had he been spared? Had even the Dark Arts been overcome with his love?

She didn't seem to hear him. She was looking right through him. Slowly, Hermione reached down to her arm, where an IV had been put in. She stood, breathing heavily, " Harry?" She asked, not looking at Harry but at the floor.

" Hermione, I'm right here," Harry said nervously.

Then, he looked down at his feet.

For there was, at his feet, his own and very dead body. And when he looked down, he realized that he could barely see his own legs, that he was translucent like wax paper in his own eyes. Harry's palms felt clammy just then. He didn't want to watch this; it was too horrible to watch this.

" Harry?" Hermione knelt down beside the dead Harry on the floor. She turned over the lifeless hand of her friend, then the other hand. It still held the note. The candle was completely level with the candleholder, just barely burning. Wax had dropped down onto the page of the book that held the spell.

Hermione took the note and ran from the room, sobbing and shrieking for assistance, " Nurse? Nurse! NURSE!"

Harry, meanwhile, felt his eyesight blurring. Suddenly even his eyes were turning into somewhat a wax paper substance, and everything was darkening. It felt as if someone was turning off all the switches in his mind. He reached out and pinched the wick of the candle with his fingers, letting it die in his hands.

A clap of thunder roared outside again and Harry whispered, " Goodbye, Hermione. It was all I could do, at least this way one of us can still be happy."

He saw no more.

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I'd sacrifice,  
sacrifice myself to you-  
right here tonight  
because you know that I love you

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